Sinners and Saints
by Mischief's Angel
Summary: Charlie's on the run from her old life, but starting a new life in Hell's Kitchen is harder than she thought. Even with everything the city throws at her - crime, disasters, and more vigilantes than she knows what to do with - she's determined stand her ground. After all, she's got a few tricks of her own up her sleeve. Possible eventual relationship. Mild Language. M for Violence
1. Chapter 1

_Alarms blared and the gunfire was deafening. Everything in the world seemed to be heading straight for hell all at the same time. Charlie was stuck in the middle of it all, helplessly staring the wreckage around her. Her life - as well as the lives of countless others - was falling apart. The feeling of helplessness added to her overwhelmed senses, making the world around her seem like little more than a terrible nightmare. Soon, the sounds started to fade and blur together into a confused chaos. Raising her shaky hand to look at it, she saw that it was soaked in fresh blood and shaking violently. She struggled to think clearly, but soon realized that she was quickly going into shock. Pushing her back up off the ground by her elbows, she weakly lifted her head to look down at her stomach. The sight would have made her sick if she had been in her right mind. Her body had already started to go numb from the shock, but she could feel the cold. The blood that was on her hands had drenched most of her chest and abdomen. The gashes across her lower stomach were jagged, wide, and bleeding out profusely, ensuring that standing would no longer be an option. Her breathing was heavy; it wasn't long for blood to make its way into her lungs from the highest stab wound. This was it. This was how it ended._

" _Charlie?!" a voice called out, getting closer to her._

 _She tried to speak, but only caused herself to start choking._

" _It's okay!" the woman's voice repeated, "It's okay! We're gonna get you out of here! Just stay with me!"_

 _There was no way. No one could have escaped this kind of hell. Suddenly, the pain began to return. She felt the world moving suddenly around her as she was dragged away, seconds before a booming, bright flash consumed the ground where she had just been lying. Everything rang out in such a myriad of pain that the world quickly faded to black around her._

When the sudden influx of sounds and images died away, reality set in. The darkness of the small room replaced the bright flashes of the dream. The room was cold and silent, the only sound being Charlie's heavy, labored breaths. She sat up on the sad excuse for a mattress and threw the blankets off. Her hands immediately flew to cover her face. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to will the images away, but they wouldn't leave. All she could do was wait until she could muster the focus to push them back into the corner of her mind, where she kept them locked away the best she could.

Rubbing the sweat from her face, she took longer, deeper breaths than before, forcing her heart rate to slow back to normal. "Okay. Okay...8...6...5...5..7. 8-6-5-5-7." Repeating the numbers out loud gave her a solid point of focus, allowing the dream to fade as she got a firm grip on what was solid and real. Slowly standing, she looked around. The sight calmed her. The apartment was small, out of the way, manageable, and - other than herself - empty. Empty. That was her favorite part. There wasn't another soul for miles that knew or cared who she was. No one looked twice at her in this city and that was how she liked it.

After deciding that there wasn't a problem in the world caffeine couldn't solve, she made a straight line out of her bedroom and to the coffee pot in the humble so-called-kitchen, which was a few partially working old appliances tucked into a corner of the living room. In total, the whole apartment was only three rooms: the living room, the bedroom, and a bathroom. It was the perfect hole in the wall. Not so good for living, but perfect for staying alive.

Charlie let out a deep sigh as the black, hot coffee swirled down into her mug. She brought the mug up to her face, contently inhaling the strong bitter scent. She looked over the rim of her mug at the display on the back of the stove. The clock read, in half burned out red lights, 5:15 AM. "Well...shit."

Since she'd worked the late shift at her job last night, she didn't have to go in early. In fact, it took about a half hour of arguing with her boss Ernie to even let her come into work before the lunch rush. Finally, she had him talked into letting her come in at ten o'clock. The only problem with that was how to kill almost five hours. By the time Charlie had showered, dressed, styled her short, white-blonde hair, and gotten breakfast - which was mostly more coffee - it was only six. "Are you kidding me?" She silently cursed at the clock once more, deciding that it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to go in early. After all, she wouldn't have to start work right away. Maybe she could just keep the other waitress, Angie, company. Grabbing her keys and her shoulder bag, she left, leaving the apartment looking as dark and bleak at always, people or no people.

Angie, the younger waitress at Ernie's Diner, was always there to work the early shift. Being a morning person herself, she'd worked out the schedule with Ernie and Charlie long ago. She'd been working here since before Charlie, so needless to say that she was delighted when Charlie agreed to take all of the late shifts. Charlie always managed to surprise her. Like now, when the bell above the door signalled a new arrival at the little diner. "Charlie? What are you doing here? You just closed up last night's shift."

Charlie shrugged, sitting on one of the stools by the counter. "I know. I'm not technically on the schedule to help until ten. I just thought I would come in early and-"

"Come on, Charlie," Angie sighed, "You gotta be the only person I know who _wants_ to work all the time. Not to mention at a boring job like this. What gives?"

Charlie thought for a while, before answering. "I happen to like my job, Ange. Maybe I just wanna be here. Work keeps my mind busy."

Angie silently poured a cup of coffee and slid it over to Charlie. If there was one thing Angie knew for sure about Charlie, the woman was better with coffee. "You ever tried getting a hobby? Or maybe sleep more. Sleep is good for people who work crazy night shifts."

"Sleep doesn't really agree with me much anymore," Charlie answered vaguely, talking mostly into her coffee. She left the details out of the answer, but knew that it was a decent enough reply.

Angie chuckled. "Hey, if you're as bad an insomniac as my aunt, you should try something for it. They make pills for that kinda stuff now." Before Charlie replied, Angie walked to go and refill the coffees for a couple at one of the window booths. Her bright smile received similar expressions from the older couple, yet another reason Angie was good at the morning shift; she was a ray of sunshine for the morning customers.

Charlie, on the other hand, was polite enough to be civil, but tough enough to handle the night shift in this city. Hell's Kitchen was no paradise when the sun was up and even less so when it went down.

"Charlie Ross!" Charlie heard angrily shouted from the kitchen window, "I thought we agreed you weren't comin' in for hours!"

"No, Earnie," she laughed back toward the window, "We agreed I wasn't _working_ until ten. Do you see an apron on me?"

"Good! I'm _only_ paying those hours!"

"Hey, Ernie," Charlie wondered, "What if I work the first few hours for free. You're cookin' up a storm and Angie's swamped. I can help."

"If it's for free, then grab an apron, Ross!"

Charlie smiled to herself and gulped down the rest of her coffee, before sliding off the stood and walking around to the other side of the counter. Once she'd tied an apron around her waist and pinned her nametag to her black and white diner uniform, she got right to work.

"I thought you said-" Angie started to protest.

"I know," Charlie smirked, "But sometimes I just can't help myself."

The day passed quickly, just like every day at Ernie's did. Charlie was just thankful that the number of rude patrons at the diner was at an all time low for the evening rush. No one threatened to sue the owner and no one tried to rob the place, so it was all-in-all a pretty good day. Charlie was ready to clean up and close up for the night, as she did just about every night.

"Go home, Ern," she offered, "It's closing time. I'll stick around and clean up."

"That's nice of you, Charlie," Ernie answered, walking out of the kitchen and drying his hands on his apron before hanging it up, "But I don't feel right leaving you here all alone at this time'a night. Now, it's not that I don't trust ya. It's just rough out there."

Charlie smiled at the older man's concern. In truth, he was in far more danger than she was. After all, she could handle herself just fine. "You sure? It's no trouble. I live close."

Ernie thought for a minute before shaking his head. "I'll wait it out with you and walk you home. After all, Emily and I are only a block or two past you."

"That's sweet of you to offer, but I can take care of myself just fine," she assured him, "Go home to your wife. Things don't get too rough for another hour or so. I'll be outta here by then. Deal?"

The man hesitantly grabbed his coat and slipped it on. He turned back to Charlie and tossed her a set of keys. "You're outta here by the hour! You be careful!"

"You got it, boss," Charlie answered with a mock salute and a smile.

When Ernie left, she went back to her nightly routine to get everything cleaned up for the next morning. She always went the extra mile to make Angie's early morning life easier. She took another look out the window, thinking about what Ernie said. Sure, it wasn't the safest place in the world, but it was only one hour. _Even in Hell's Kitchen, what could possibly go wrong in one hour?_

In about fifteen minutes, Charlie was really pissed that she asked herself that question. She was sweeping the floor in front of the counter, when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a car speeding by - or rather _toward_ the diner. In a quick reaction, she'd dropped the broom and jumped up over the counter, sliding down behind the other side, just as she heard a loud crash and a rain of glass. The diner was harshly lit by the headlights of the car, allowing Charlie to see the shadow of a man approaching in the light. She grabbed the gun from under counter and crept closer to the side of the counter, peering around just slightly to get a better look. The car had stopped prior to hitting the diner, but had collided with something...or someone. When her eyes adjusted to the harsh light, she could tell that the car had hit a man so hard that he had been thrown through the window. That would mean that the man entering the diner was likely the driver.

She ducked back behind the counter for another second as the shadow grew closer. When she dared another look, she could see the man who'd flown through the window - or at least the twisted, bloody mess that was left of him. The driver grabbed the man by the leg and drug the unmoving form out the door.

"Shit!" Charlie exclaimed quietly to herself. She immediately regretted the sound when the driver's shadow on the wall stopped moving. Had he heard her? Waiting with her back to the counter wasn't doing a thing to make her feel at all safe right now, so she gripped the gun tighter and slowly rose to look above the counter, her head barely visible, since she was hidden from the headlights by the driver's large shadow.

The driver was a tall, dark figure facing away from her. The long black coat he wore obscured any details from view. It wasn't until he turned partially back toward her that she could see any defining feature. When she saw it, part of her wished that she hadn't. Under the coat, she caught a glimpse of the image on his chest: a long, white skull.

Charlie lowered herself back down quickly, cursing to herself. If the man had seen her, he didn't make any moves to do something about it. Honestly, she just prayed that he hadn't seen her at all. Soon, she saw the shadow disappear and the lights move away as the car backed up. After that, she counted her breaths until the car was completely gone.

 _Shit._


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, my god!" Angie's panicked voice carried across the diner.

Charlie looked up from the floor to see the morning waitress being let into the diner by the police officer at the door. "Angie, what are you doing here? I think it's safe to say your shift is over since the diner can't even open today."

Angie wasted no time making her way over to Charlie, who had been sitting up on the counter for some time now. "I got a call from Ernie early this morning and I came right away! Are you okay? What happened?"

Charlie sighed and rotated her stiff shoulders to loosen them up. "Why don't you read the police report when it comes out, Ange? After all, I was behind the counter the whole time like an idiot. Hell, I've been here since I called the cops last night, so it's been a long day already."

"Police reports? Charlie, I wanna hear what happened to _you_. Not the window. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Not hurt at all," Charlie answered, looking around at the damage caused by the missing window, shattered glass, and a broken table. "They're saying it was just some kind of vandalism or something. Pretty common. Some punks threw something through the window. It scared the hell out of me, so I got behind the counter. That's all. I promise, I'm okay." She looked Angie dead in the eyes when she reassured her to emphasize her point. "And when the window's all fixed up, it'll be business as usual."

Angie was a mixture of relieved and skeptical about the situation. "The offer said that nothing was stolen. If they were gonna break in, why not try and take anything."

"It wasn't even a break in. Someone just broke the window. That's all."

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," Angie noted, "Now, you should go home and get some rest. I can't imagine how awful this must be."

"No...I think I'm just gonna get some air for a while," Charlie told her, shaking her head a bit. Hopping down off of the counter, she made her way out of the diner, patting Angie's arm reassuringly when she passed her. "Go home, Ange."

Charlie wandered down the sidewalk deep in thought. She could have told the police what really happened; in hindsight, she probably should have. Nothing says accessory to murder like lying to an officer of the law. She also could have spent her night at home, rather than cleaning the blood of some unknown criminal off of the diner floor before calling the police. _Why get caught up in all of this?_ She asked herself that question over and over, unable to justify her actions fully. _You could have just given them the info and walked away clean_.

The best answer she had to give was that she'd done it to keep the truth off of the official record. She knew full well what had happened. The diner had gotten caught up in a mess started by the vigilante that the press often called "The Punisher." That was common enough for areas like this one; however, the police all believed that this Punisher was dead. Knowing that he'd killed some scumbag wasn't new, but knowing that he was alive after being officially claimed as dead...that might really become a problem. _But a problem for who?_ _The police or the Punisher?_ It would be a complete lie for Charlie to claim that she didn't believe in what these vigilantes were doing. That didn't make it right or legal to get involved, yet here she was.

"Easy, Charlie," she sighed to herself, "It's over. No more lies after this one. You might have helped out someone who's trying to keep the streets cleaned up. Now, that part's over."

 _No more helping vigilantes._

Without the diner, there was nothing else to eat away at the time. Instead, Charlie couldn't stop the time from eating away at her. Nothing she did distracted her enough. There were no errands to run. She wasn't the kind to have hobbies. _Hell,_ she thought, _maybe I should get a TV._ That thought was quickly dismissed. The last thing she needed to do was sit in front of the world news. It was always the same thing anyway. People taking what might have once been a decent world and blowing it to hell. The more these colorful "Avenger" types tried to help, the worse things seemed to be getting. No. TV was a bad idea.

Part way through her third time cleaning her apartment she felt the walls in the back of her mind start to collapse. Unwanted thoughts leaked forward no matter how much she tried to force them away. Memories that she'd hoped were gone were as vivid as if they had happened minutes before. She couldn't forget just one. It was a cruel torture that her own mind drug her through, cursed to relive a life that didn't belong to her anymore.

 _She watched absentmindedly as the sudsy water circled the drain and disappeared. The dishes were the next thing she could mark off of her list for the day, as she dried the last plate and stacked it with the others. Thankfully, she hadn't dropped the dish when she was suddenly spooked by an arm wrapping around her waist._

" _Geez!" she gasped with a small laugh, "A little warning next time."_

" _You had your guard down," a familiar raspy voice answered, "Couldn't resist." He looked at the stacks of dishes and then back to Charlie. "You know...there's a machine that does that now. Last time I checked, we had one of those."_

" _Yeah, that'd be great," she sighed, turning around to look up at him, "if said machine wasn't broken."_

" _Again?" he scoffed, looking at the appliance with irritation._

" _Again."_

 _He finally turned his stare away from it. "Well, I'll fix it when I get back, I guess." Starting to walk back toward the door, he cast the dishes out of his mind for now, focusing on continuing to get ready to leave._

 _It was then that Charlie noticed the uniform and holster that her fiance was wearing. "Get back?! You just got back not even two days ago and they're calling you back already?" She crossed her arms in frustration. "Why didn't they tell me? I should be-"_

" _I dropped you from this one, Angel," he admitted._

" _You took me off the op and then didn't bother to tell me about it? That makes it much better," she huffed, walking briskly past him and back down the hallway._

" _Charlie, wait!" he called, walking after her, "It's not like that. This op is...complicated. We're only takin' as many as we need."_

" _Oh," she snapped back around on her heels to face him down once again, "So you don't need me?"_

" _I didn't mean-"_

" _Why? The deal was that this would only work if we didn't let it interfere with work," she reminded him, gesturing between the two of them, "We're not screwing with that now, so what gives?"_

" _This time it's...complicated," he dodged the question, "Just trust me to take care of it. They'll probably call you in soon." He never gave her a chance to ask more questions, kissing her forehead and heading toward the door._

" _Brock…be careful."_

Charlie silently cursed herself for remembering. There was no point thinking about things that were over and done a long time ago. Particularly things that burned her to her core, causing her skin to crawl and her stomach to turn and feel sick. _How could anyone be that stupid,_ she thought, abandoning her cleaning tasks. Clearly, the distraction was failing anyway. Her only thought shifted to how the memories made her feel. It felt like they left dirt on her skin, a type of filth that she could never truly wash away. Even starting a new life couldn't free her from it.

As useless as she knew it would be, she made her way to the humble shower that the small bathroom provided. The more she thought about her life with-...the life she used to have, the harder she scrubbed at the nonexistent filth on her skin, rubbing it raw with the effort to the point of leaving nothing behind but a raw burning. When the futile attempts didn't satisfy the need to be freed, her frustration only grew. Pounding her fist into the ceramic tiling of the shower walls, she beat out the frustration, shouting furiously as she did. Nothing changed. Nothing helped.

The diner didn't reopen for days. Days without work to keep Charlie's mind occupied. Days without pay because some thug picked a bad day to have a run in with a crazy vigilante. The days lasted so long that it felt like a year since Charlie had gone to work. When it was time for her evening shift, it was everything she could do not to run through the doors eagerly, finding any task that needed doing. She'd settle for walking in like a sane person this time. When she tied on the plain, worn out apron, it was just easier to pretend that nothing ever happened. That's exactly what she did...or tried to do.

The evening shift at Ernie's was a quiet one, hours passing slowly with only the occasional customer dropping in after the dinner rush was over. Charlie kept plenty busy catching up on everything that didn't get done while the window was being replaced and some repairs were done to the outer wall below it. All too soon for her taste, Charlie realized that it was nearing closing time. Any normal person would likely want to leave when it came to working in the middle of the night. The keyword for that phrase was "normal," however.

"Ross," Ernie called over to her stopping on his way toward the door and walking over to where the waitress was cleaning tables, "Go on home now. I'll stay and clean up this time."

"No, I got this," Charlie declined, finishing with the table, "We've got a little bit to go before closing. I'll stick around."

"How many times do we have to go through this, Charlie," the owner sighed, "It's late and I don't feel right leaving you to go home all on your own. I was right to think so last time. I mean, look what happened." He gestured to the window, frustrated by the diner's streak of rotten luck.

"Ernie," Charlie assured him, "Look at me. I'm fine, just like I promised." As she spoke, Charlie grabbed the diner owner's coat from where he'd set it and handed it to him. "And I'll be fine tomorrow. You've got family to go home to and it's late. I got no one missing me and nowhere to be any time soon, so I'll close up."

"Okay…" he accepted begrudgingly, but stay in the street lights and don't go down any of those back ways, you hear me."

"I hear you," Charlie chuckled, leading the man to the door, "Now tell Emily I said hello."

"Alright."

True to her word, Charlie always stayed to the last minute and cleaned up the diner. Everytime, without fail, Ernie came in the next day to find the place spotless and ready for business. To Charlie, that bit before she went home was probably her favorite part of any day. It was the only time her life seemed calm and in control. She had a system of playing Johnny Cash over the diner radio, cleaning everything she could, and just turning her mind off for a while and letting routine take over. It was only every once in a great while that someone came around as she was closing. It was going to be one of those nights.

 _Ding!_

The bell at the front door caught Charlie's attention. Before she glanced up, her automatic response spilled from her mouth. "Sorry, we're already clos-" Her words died on her tongue as she looked up and caught sight of the new guest. _Seriously?!_ Her mind screamed at her, _he's back?!_

Standing by the doorway, tall and terrifying as Charlie remembered him from days before, was the trench coat clad vigilante. The Punisher. He stood there quietly for a minute, looking around the diner and giving Charlie a minute to process. She suspected that half of what he was doing was waiting to see if she'd panic and call the police. She didn't.

"What?" she wondered, surprised by the even confidence of her own voice, "No grand entrance tonight?" Her calm tone must have been the right choice, since she could watch the severe look on the man's face lighten a little, even though he still kept watching his surroundings carefully.

"That's why I came back," he explained plainly, "I wasn't gunnin' for the window. Just got caught up in the crossfire."

Charlie stood there, saying nothing until he offered up more of an explanation.

"Came to say sorry for the window," he continued, "Always liked this place. Didn't deserve to be part of that shit show."

Now Charlie was a whole different type of speechless.

He reached into his coat, causing Charlie to tense up. It wasn't a fear reaction, he noticed, but a reflex to be ready for anything. Not a very common reaction. What he pulled out of the pocket was less than dangerous, however. The stack of bills was banded together neatly, clearly set aside for this reason. He walked forward and slapped the cask down on the counter calmly.

"So…" Charlie found her voice, "You actually came back here to apologize and pay for the new window. She fought the urge to laugh at the odd situation as she watched the vigilante shrug cooly. "But...we can't accept this."

"Did I ask?" He didn't seem the type to take back a gesture, so he stayed silently adamant about it.

"What do I tell my boss?" she asked, testing his resolve carefully.

"The truth. Someone donated cash, because they like this place and want it to stay."

Charlie paused for a long moment, studying his face to find nothing but a blunt honesty that she wasn't expecting. She had too many questions to ask and not enough time to ask them. She was surprised by the only one that came out. "Do you drink coffee?"

They were both taken back by her sudden, seemingly random question. After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm not just taking a stack of cash from someone, so you're getting something for it," Charlie explained with a small chuckle. She walked around behind the counter and pulled out a to-go coffee cup and filled it up, snapping a lid on before setting it on the counter. "I gotta toss this if someone doesn't take it anyway, so you're still doing me a favor.

He stared at the cup before looking up to Charlie. "You don't scare easy," he noted plainly, taking the coffee. "Most people call the cops by now, thinkin' I'm gonna go off on 'em."

It was Charlie's turn to mirror his earlier shrug. "Got nothing to be scared of. If you wanted me dead, I would be. I'm not a criminal, so I figure that's why I'm not in danger. Besides, you're not a psycho."

"What makes you say that?"

"Psychos don't come back and pay for the damages with an apology," she smirked, "Hell, even the Avengers barely do that. So, I figure you're probably not here to cause problems."

He didn't say any more about the window, satisfied with the apology being accepted. He raised the cup of coffee in his hand a bit. "Thanks for the coffee, Ma'am." He walked back toward the door, only turning back to ask one last question. He paused when it occurred to him and he had to know. "Why didn't you tell police what happened to the window?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Charlie replied, looking as confused as she could fake, "There have never been any vigilantes at Ernie's." She could swear that she saw a ghost of a smile pull at the corner of his mouth, but it was probably nothing. He left, blending into the dark street so well that Charlie soon lost sight of him.

 _Ma'am? Wouldn't have pegged him as the manners type._


End file.
